British Babysitting
by QueenPersephoneofHades
Summary: Howard Stark greatly regrets the day he inadvertently introduced his doctor to his butler. As if he didn't already get enough British sass; now they can gang up on him. Part of the 'Immortal Agents Aren't Hard to Come By' series.


"-he got the idea for a small, self-contained power generator that has no need to run on fuel-"

"Oh yes, that doesn't sound dangerous _at all._ "

"-but he neglected to inform me of _when_ he would be testing it out-"

"Brilliant work, Howard, you truly are an American role model-"

"-so I come in, afternoon tea with a hint of bourbon on a tray as usual, and there _he_ is, the middle of the half-blown up lab, with a giant hunk of whatever this is stuck right in his shoulder, bleeding all over the floor, writing in his notebook instead of calling for help-"

"Honestly, Mr. Stark, you're lucky you didn't lose any fingers."

"-and he _smiles at me_ , just grins at me, and he has the _gall_ to ask why I dropped the tray on the floor-"

"Bloody hell Howard, how many brain cells did you lose recently?!"

"-I panicked, I'm sorry I interrupted your mission, Miss Carter-"

"No, Mr. Jarvis, it's alright; Lord knows Thompson would never give me anything other than deskwork again if I let America's number one weapons manufacturer bleed to death in his own home."

"-and I must thank you for getting here so quickly, Dr. Morgan."

"It's no trouble, Mr. Jarvis, I'm happy to help; I only wish the fool would wake up long enough so that I may express how displeased I am with him."

"There's no need to be so polite, Henry. He's an idiot and should have someone tell him so."

Howard Stark, idiot in question and previously half-consciously sorting out which familiarly accented voice belonged to whom, slurred, "'m not an idiot."

"Yes you are," one of the male voices retorted as skilled hands carefully finished tightening bandages over his freshly sewed together flesh, making him wince and blearily open his eyes.

Three blurry figures slowly swam together in his vision, one directly beside him while the other two stood farther back, watching the other work on the patient.

Blinking eventually brought the figures into focus, and Howard stared up at the three people on this earth he trusted most.

His butler, Edwin Jarvis, was watching him with wide eyes, skin a tad paler than usual and noticeably without his suit coat, sleeves rolled up and hands stained pink where blood had clearly been half-heartedly washed off.

Peggy Carter, his on-and-off best friend and compatriot, stood with hands on her hips and lips pursed, glaring at him in obvious ire.

And lastly, his doctor and occasional lab assistant, Henry Morgan, was carefully putting the finishing touches to the bandage binding his shoulder, looking equal parts amused and stern.

"So I'm guessing the test went wrong?" Howard asked blithely, trying valiantly to ignore the severe pounding in his head.

Jarvis let out a noise that sounded vaguely similar to a hysterical giggle as Peggy's glare sharpened and Henry sighed deeply in exasperation.

"You are the stupidest genius I have ever met!" Peggy snapped, evidently fed up with silence. "Do you have any idea how much blood you lost?! You could've died!"

"Your lack of self-preservation _is_ quite worrying, Mr. Stark," added Henry, raising an eyebrow when Howard sent him a glare.

"I do not 'lack self-preservation'," Howard protested, air-quotes practically visible as he sat up on shaky limbs, Henry hovering slightly to make sure he didn't fall right back over again. "I was just working on a new project-"

"A new project that nearly killed you!"

This time the outburst was from a harried Jarvis, who remained adamant even though he was clearly horrified to be speaking to his employer in such a way.

Howard supposed he could let it slide, seeing as the posh man had called for help so quickly. "I was fine. I had everything under control-"

"Yes, because nearly impaling an artery and nearly bleeding to death is definitely 'in control'," Henry muttered crossly, and _okay,_ whoa, I did not ask for your sass, sir.

Howard was prepared to fire a pretty good line back at his equally reckless colleague when his shaking arm threatened to give out underneath him, and steadying himself jarred his shoulder, drawing a hiss from him as he clenched his teeth in pain.

"Do you need another pain killer?" Henry asked calmly as Peggy stiffened and Jarvis flitted forward to his employer's side, clearly distressed.

"It would be appreciated," Howard acquiesced begrudgingly, and Jarvis disappeared, off to find some from within the mansion, while Henry packed away his tools.

"You should regain full mobility within two months, so long as you do not strain it or mess with the stitches," he said as Peggy gingerly sat beside them, still staring at Howard with a thunderous expression.

"Thanks Doc," Howard sighed tiredly. He was grateful to the man, really, but it was a bit humiliating, to nearly die within your own home because of an experiment you yourself were conducting. The papers would've had a field day if Jarvis hadn't come in to help when he did.

Henry finishes packing away his things, and Jarvis reappears at some point with some corner-store aspirin and a cup of water, and Howard swallows everything down like the good little patient he doesn't like to be but can't resist being with Peggy's murderous face inches from his own.

"I would greatly appreciate it if you informed me of any other exploding experiments from now on, sir," Jarvis added, ringing his hands but a tad less pale now that Howard wasn't on the verge of dying, though his lips are still turned downward in a pensive frown.

Howard feels a little ( _lot_ ) guilty for making him worry, so he says, "Sure thing, buddy," though honestly he has no intention of keeping such a promise.

Peggy still looks furious, though she seems to have mellowed for the moment. "If you _ever_ do something this stupid again…" she leaves the threat hanging.

He gulps, looking to the other two for help, but Jarvis has begun cleaning up all the blood-stained fabric and Henry seems to have found something quite interesting to look at on the ceiling.

Howard looks back to the she-wolf, wincing, and she sighs and grabs him in a non-too gentle one-armed hug, not bothering to avoid his injury and making him squeak.

"Stupid git," she mutters.

"Sorry about that," he replies, a bit surprised at how sincere the apology actually is. She squeezes a bit harder, and Jarvis is looking much calmer, and Henry smiles, small and simple. It's a nice little moment, just the four of them, but he later comes to regret it.

He should've known getting all three of his British allies together was a bad idea.

Not even he could handle the sass.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys! Miss me? Sorry I haven't added anything to this in so long; I got stumped for ideas and never managed to finish anything, but TA-DA! I finally got something done! Hope you enjoyed; hopefully we will witness some actual adventures with the British Sass Trio later on! Who knows?! See you later!  
~Persephone**


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